


aegis

by darkmillennium



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Enochian (Supernatural), Enochian-Speaking Adam Milligan, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, POV Adam Milligan, Post-Episode: s15e08 Our Father Who Aren't in Heaven, Pre-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, it IS light angst but if you think about it..., it might turn into heavier angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmillennium/pseuds/darkmillennium
Summary: Michael's tracing sigils on the wall.
Relationships: Michael/Adam Milligan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 135





	aegis

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this to prove to myself that i could still write lmao. i was writing out midam headcanons for an ask on my tumblr and i was just like yknow what....fuck it

Michael's tracing sigils on the wall. 

He's doing it with his fingers, meticulously slow, but Adam can see the marks left on the faded paint—not in this reality, perhaps, but the next; the one that layered just over the physical, the one where Michael's wings twitched and shifted with thought.

Adam leans his chin on his arms, hunched over on the motel table and allowing his eyes to idly drink in every movement the archangel made: a swipe here, a swirl there, the tremble of hesitation in his hand before determination overcame it once more and he attacked the wall with a newfound steadiness.

It was when Adam caught sight of the complex patterns starting to repeat that he sighed, pushing himself up and making his way over. Michael's thoughts were a raging storm on his side of the bond, and again Adam finds himself quietly cursing life and all it had thrown at them—all it still threw at them now. 

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair for Michael to give up his entire life for a father who couldn't even be bothered enough to care. It wasn't fair that they'd escaped the Cage only to be thrust into a new one—a bi0gger cage, the entire universe at their fingertips, but a cage nonetheless; God's cage. 

And there were no seals for this cage. No lock and key. Now, all they could do was skip around from place to place, Michael being forced to restrain his power in order to keep them from being noticed after he'd handed the spell to the Winchesters over. It was a far cry from the excitement Adam had felt at the diner, but it didn't matter now, did it?

Not when the universe could combust at any second. Michael couldn't even tell if God was around or not, which didn't help their mounting anxiety.

Adam reaches up and out, gently tangling his own fingers with the ones that were about to repeat their sixth stroke. Michael's eyes turn to meet his, inquisitive, but still lingering with the fine mist of the despair that had made its home there ever since Castiel's memories had forced their way into his mind. It clings to his gaze, his face, his shoulders; he seems so weary, and Adam can't help the bullet of ice that shoots through his heart at the sight of it.

"You've done all you can," he utters, softly, the words ringing a little too loud in the stillness of the room, and there is a distinct sensation of relief that ebbs and flows through his skin when Michael's hand curls fully around his. 

The archangel's lips pull just a little to the side, mind still an endless whirlwind as he considers the sigil-infested wall once more. Then he nods, and Adam relaxes a little more before turning to view the marks himself. Not all of them were in Enochian.

"What does this one mean?" he asks, pointing with his other hand to a symbol he doesn't recognize, and Michael's huff of laughter is too low-spirited for Adam's tastes. He's heard it happier in the Cage—and isn't that something to think about?

 _"Protection,"_ Michael says, before tipping his head at the rest of the room. "It's what they all say."

 _It's all I can do,_ is what Adam hears, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he hums his acknowledgement and combs his gaze around the other three walls, seeing the different Enochian variations of _protection, protection, protection_ blending with the unfamiliar symbols in a way that Adam was sure they were never meant to. 

"Teach me some?" he turns his face back, cocking his eyebrow in hopeful question. It wouldn't be enough to take Michael's mind off... _everything,_ but Adam would take anything at this point.

Michael's expression softens, the twitch of his finger against Adam's knuckle as brief as the quiver of his wings, and he begins to speak.

* * *

He's digging through the drawers, pausing only once to send a sneering look at the Bible in one of them before Michael speaks up.

"What are you looking for?"

"A marker," Adam tosses over his shoulder, frowning a little at the lack of the aforementioned item—a Bible, but no markers? Really?—before something cool and solid is poking him in the back of his neck and he swats at it, wrinkling his nose at the archangel. 

The slight curve at his mouth looks real, this time. Nearly imperceptible, but real.

"Thought you weren't going to use your powers," he says, sending a slight _thank you_ ping through their bond as he stands up.

"It's a marker," Michael replies, the barest hint of amusement staining his tone in a way that makes Adam's heart jump. "I think I can spare the grace for it."

Adam grins and takes Michael's hand again, popping the cap off with his teeth and holding it there as he flips the archangel's hand and begins to trace a pattern onto his inner wrist.

The confusion emanating from Michael is not lost on him; rather, he simply smiles a little wider around the cap in his teeth and glances up at him, finding a curious look being sent his way.

When he's done, he sticks the marker back into the cap and removes it from his teeth, twirling it slightly as he inspects his handiwork. Maybe a little sloppy, but it would do.

"Protection," Adam voices, thumb swiping reposefully along the skin of Michael's apparition as he stares down. "We could use some of that."

Michael's grace sends out a warm pulse in return, kindly teasing in a way that sets Adam more at ease than anything else ever could. "Were the walls not enough?" 

He shakes his head. "Nah. This one can be yours."

Adam knows what he'd created, two variations of Enochian protection symbols weaving together on Michael's wrist to form a hybrid—double protection, if he might say so himself.

"And yours?"

Adam smiles, and he's sure it falls short of the mischievous look he was going for, but that's alright. He searches Michael's face for all of a moment before leaning in, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek and pulling back to look at him again. Their hands still grasp one another—little anchors in a shaky, unstable new world. 

No matter how much he'd despised it, the Cage had been so much simpler than this.

"Hell couldn't keep me down," he offers. "I'm sure I'll be fine. Besides, you're _old._ You need it more than I do."

And Michael grins, a crooked, candid force of nature that has Adam's own eyes crinkling in return. 

Their foreheads come to rest together, lifelines solidifying, and Adam suddenly thinks that it doesn't matter where they are, whether they're in Hell's Cage or God's—they're still the same, at the end of all. They still have each other.

Maybe it would be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> ...and then it wasn't.
> 
> thank you for reading!! comments are very much appreciated :)
> 
> my tumblr is @adammilligan!


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